Exit Strategy
Disclaimer: I claim no rights to Dark Angel, or any of the characters you find here. No, not even Alec.
Spoilers: Set two weeks after the events of Freak Nation, includes spoilers for the entire series.
Square One
Max was swaying. Though her feet were firmly planted on the ground, her body moved dangerously from side-to-side. She recognized Logan and Original Cindy's raised voices. She caught snippets of their conversation, which consisted of OC chastising Logan for his unnecessary bluntness, while Logan struggled to explain himself. Max, though, Max stood and swayed.
Alec and Sketchy, dying. That was what Logan had said. But what did that mean? He had said that Alec was sick, but transgenics didn't get sick, at least not from Max's experience. And what about Sketchy? Did he suffer from the same illness as Alec, or something else altogether? She knew that she needed more information, before she succumbed to this blind panic that threatened to overwhelm her, but her mind was stuck on two revolving faces.
She thought of Sketchy, who'd been hounding her for an interview since he had discovered her transgenic nature. She'd taken to purposefully avoiding him around Terminal City, so tired she'd grown of his begging.
But he had stood with her alongside all the transgenics against the Seattle PD. He had accepted her with only Original Cindy's endorsement, despite news reports and popular opinion believing the transgenics dangerous and unstable. Faults and foibles aside, Sketchy had always been a good friend to Max.
She remembered the last time she had spoke with Alec, earlier in the morning before she had gone to meet with Clemente. She remembered his face, how he had refused to make eye contact over his inventory sheet and sat straight as a board, as if at attention. At the time she had thought him rude and dismissive, his posture an unpleasant reminder of Manticore. In retrospect, he faced seemed tired and drawn. The tightening of his limbs, though, reminded her of something else.
"He's had a seizure, hasn't he? Alec?"
Even as she spoke the words she knew she was right, about this at least. Logan turned from OC to her, nodding all the while.
"More than one, actually. It's been going on for sometime. He's had a few people"-Logan winced as he said this-"looking after him, Mole and Luke included. They decided this morning that he needed some rest, so they dosed him with something to help him sleep. He was out for about fifteen minutes when he started seizing. He hasn't woken since."
"Sometime? What do you mean, sometime?"
"Max, Alec has been having seizures since he was shot at Jam Pony. Seven altogether. That they know of, at least."
For a brief moment the panic, which had receded slightly while her and Logan spoke, came barreling back into her. Logan was right, seven seizures in such a short time span meant bad things for Alec. The idea alone made her sick to her stomach.
Desperate to lose herself in another train of thought, she changed the subject. She deliberately made her voice as calm and cool as possible; hoping to reflect the words she had beating a tattoo on the inside of her skull: I will not panic, I will not panic.
"And what about Sketchy? It's not like seizures are contagious. What's his dealio?"
Logan gave her a strange look, but answered her all the same.
"Sketchy woke up this morning with a nosebleed. He's had another in the time since then. We think…"
"You think it's the toxins," OC cut him off abruptly, her mouth a thin line, "you think that Terminal City, that being here, you think its starting to kill us."
Logan stopped to face them both, and Max was surprised to find they were standing in front of the infirmary. She hadn't even realized they were walking.
"We think it's time for the three of us to leave Terminal City. It may no longer be safe."
"It was never safe, not for us," Sketchy had appeared at the doors to the infirmary, looking relatively well, if you ignored his blood-covered shirt. He turned to speak to Logan directly.
"He's awake."
----------------------------------
Once inside the infirmary, Max began glancing around curiously. While she knew that Luke and Alec had been organizing a medical ward, she hadn't had the time to come out and see their progress.
It was a large, serviceable room, not yet completed, but easily one of the cleanest areas in Terminal City. There were two rows of makeshift gurneys, each separated on both sides by moveable partitions. There didn't seem to be a lot of medical equipment around. But Max knew that, whatever they needed, it was only a matter of time before Alec would procure it. By any means necessary, of course.
One of the gurneys was surrounded on all sides. The shadows that were visible through the shades did not betray the people behind them, but their voices, raised to varying degrees, carried out over the screens to echo off the walls of the infirmary.
"You've been out for five hours!"
"I was out because you drugged me!"
"You need your rest until we figure out what's causing this."
"That's easy- it's Manticore! You know, crazy government scientists? Spent a majority of our lifetimes as their personal lab rats? Too bad for me THEY NO LONGER EXIST!"
"There are still Manticore scientists out there. We could just…"
"Track them down and invite them to our toxic waste dump for tea? And tell them, what?"
"Well…"
"You know those genetically engineered killing machines you help create? Well one of them's got the shakes."
"Alec, stop."
"We'd find a way to get them to talk, you can bet your pretty Princess ass!"
"How about a quick cure, for old times sake?"
"If you would stop flapping your damn jaw..."
"You're being very immature about this."
"You're being naïve!"
"Now listen here…"
"ENOUGH!"
Max strode toward the nearest partition and pushed it aside. She found Alec and Mole standing face-to-face, with Luke sitting in a nearby chair, both hands wrapped around its arms in a death grip. Mole had his arm extended, cigar in hand; he had obviously been using it to accentuate his points. Alec had one hand resting on the gurney in front of him, a hand that looked casual, but Max could see it was helping to support his weight.
She observed every part of him, looking for some clue she had missed in guessing his condition. His face was tired, the kind of tired that took some time to show on a transgenic. His skin was covered in a light sheen of sweat and his eyes, no longer avoiding contact, were fever bright. As she looked her fill, his mouth slowly drew itself up into a snarl.
"Well boys, it looks like the jig is up!"
His voice was a sharp contrast to look on his face. He sounded as if nothing was wrong with him at all. Max watched mesmerized as his body quickly shifted to his normal stance, as all signs of pain and sickness melted from his features, leaving only the Alec she had grown accustomed to behind.
"Don't worry, Maxie, just our friendly neighborhood seizure disorder." He laughed, actually laughed, between his words, "Mole and Luke here just get a little excitable."
Max looked to Mole and Luke now, Luke was simply slack jawed at this sudden change, but Mole looked murderous. Alec ignored them both and continued talking to Max.
"I take it you heard about Sketchy? Well, we knew this day was coming." He turned to Logan, Sketchy and OC, who looked as confused as Max felt. "You three wanna pack up, Mole and I here will work on your big exit."
Alec finished speaking, and began looking at the room's occupants expectantly. Logan was the first to move.
"We'll pack, Alec, but these seizures…"
"Are under control. I appreciate the concern, Log-boy, but we have bigger problems."
"Bigger problems?" Mole's voice rose with his anger, "Bigger problems! Are you out of your gourd! Past two weeks, you've spent more time shivering on your back than you have sleeping!"
"Alec, Mole's right," Luke finally spoke up, "you're the Second in Command here. If you go down…"
"No one's going down here. I'm not saying we ignore it." Alec turned to face Mole completely. "We get out the ordinaries, and then we can worry about me."
Max could see that Alec had made his decision, and he was nothing if not stubborn. In the face of her neglect, though, she couldn't let Alec take point on this. Not with him so ill, and Logan, OC and Sketchy at risk.
"Fine. We'll concentrate on the extraction. In the meantime, I want you here with Luke, resting."
Alec's face slowly turned to Max, his expression so severe she started. The man facing her now, she imagined, was the same man who faced down his superiors at Manticore.
No, she mentally corrected, if Alec had looked at his superiors like this, he never would have left Psy Ops.
Then he spoke, and it wasn't so much his tone that surprised her, but his words.
"Know it must hard to trust your boyfriend to a defect, Max, but I've still got something you don't."
"And what's that?"
"I've got a way out."
So, I've got myself in a bit of a pickle. When I started this story, I knew where I wanted to go. As I write, though, I feel like I'm getting pulled in another direction. How do you guys feel about what you've read so far? Any suggestions? I just need to decide where we're gonna end up.
Thanks again for the reviews. I'm still amazed people are actually reading this.